


Hunter's Mark

by ribbonsandnightshade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Avvar Inquisitor, Avvar!Inquisitor - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonsandnightshade/pseuds/ribbonsandnightshade
Summary: Vitya Ar Annis O Ironwood Hold still struggled with how the Lowlanders did things. They always made things more complicated than they needed to be.Dorian Pavus should have known better. His feelings for the Inquisitor were dangerous. Yet he couldn't get the Avvar out of his head.Together, their friendship was blooming into something Dorian was sure they'd both regret.  After all, how could the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, want anything more of Dorian other than friendship?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm publishing the first three chapters in hopes it forces me to actually start working on this again. Hope you all enjoy these pining boys as much as I do.

Inquisitor [Vitya]

“Dibs on sharing with our dear Seeker,” Varric laughed as he trotted off down the hall.

Cassandra made a disgruntled grunt but followed the dwarf to their room nonetheless.

“Guess that leaves you and me, Inquisitor,” Dorian quipped. “Think of it.  A mattress.  Such a nice change from hard dirt.”

The Inquisitor rolled his eyes but gave a small smile as he shouldered his pack, following the sway of the mage’s hips.

“Don’t suppose there will be bed bugs, do you?  A few inns I stayed in coming south had those.  Nasty little things.  I was itchy for weeks,” said mage continued as he unlocked the door.

Dorian flicked his wrist and what candles lay about the room ignited, casting the room in a warm glow.  Two twin beds lay opposite each other against the walls.  Between them sat a small table with a basin and jug.  The room was sparse of anything else.

“Oh, I don’t know.  You could always set them on fire like everything else you do,” he commented nonchalantly as he sat his pack at the foot of one of the beds.

“Why, my dear Inquisitor, was that a joke?”

“My entire life is a joke,” he deadpanned under his breath.

The Tevinter chuckled softly.  “I suppose it certainly seems so.  Never fear, darling.  We’ll deal with this Corypheus business soon enough and then you can go back to gallivanting through the wilderness before you know it.”

“Isn’t that what we normally do?” he turned and raised an eyebrow at the mage.

Dorian’s smile grew and his heart skipped a bit.  “I suppose you’re right on that account.  Now, all joking aside, I’d like to see about paying for a hot bath.  Soaking in cold, filthy creeks has done nothing for my skin and hair thank you very much.”

The Inquisitor shook his head fondly.  “I believe there’s a communal bath downstairs.”

“Ah, thank you for your observation skills,” the mage snarked before sashaying back out of the room with a change of clothes.

.     .     . 

Dorian

Dorian sighed as he slipped into the steaming water, pleased by the warmth against his skin.  He’d needed this.  Traveling with the Inquisitor may have forced him to finally get over his trepidation of sleeping on the hard ground and being filthy all the time, but it was nice to scrub the signs of their travels off his copper skin.  It made him feel like he was human again.

It took nearly an hour before Dorian felt satisfied with his cleanliness and grooming.  A quick wave of his hand turned the brown of the water clear and he collected some of the oils by the water and reapplied them.  The smell was divine – nothing like he’d had back home – but after weeks on the road it was a wonderful change.  When he was satisfied with the water temperature, he leaned against the stone at his back and relaxed finally, not a care to the pruning of his skin.

Dorian took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing just a bit more into the water.  His mind wouldn’t quiet fully, in part due to the bruise on his right side from a bandit.  It ached but the water was helping.  If it hadn’t been for the Inquisitor it would have been much worse.

The Inquisitor…

He sighed heavily, sinking just a bit more into the water.

Why was it that his thoughts always drifted to the man eventually?

Besides the obvious interesting matters about him like the anchor or the fact he was an Avvar hunter, there were little things that kept pulling Dorian in.  Like the way the man could drink everyone under the table except for the Iron Bull or the fact he got incredibly cuddly after.  How he was terrible at Wicked Grace.  The fact he liked his tea with jam of all things.  The crinkle near his eyes when he smiled and laughed.  The way the light shown from his hazel eyes when it caught them just right.

Dorian muttered to himself and sank further until the water rested just below his nose.

 _Why must you do this?  You know better_.

Vitya Ar Annis O Ironwood Hold was an oddity and a walking fashion disaster.  Yet he was incredibly kind and loyal to his own, and somehow Dorian had managed to find himself in that ragtag family of misfits.  How, he still wasn’t sure.  Perhaps it was being thrown into the future together.  Or Haven.  Or even any of the other adventures they’d had since.  But somehow the Inquisitor had come to trust him.  Him, a Tevinter pariah on the run from his own father.  Him, a Tevinter necromancer.

Any other southerner would have imprisoned him or murdered him on the spot, yet the Inquisitor had not only taken him under his protection but had asked him for counsel on more than one occasion – even more occasions simply being devoted to casual conversation.  He was such an inquisitive man.  Dorian supposed that was fitting of someone with the title of Inquisitor.

Dorian wasn’t sure what he had expected – ok, he’d had some assumptions of the man – but Vitya was by far not what he had anticipated.  He was a wonder and a curse all in one.

“If you’re not careful there, Sparkler, you’re gonna electrocute yourself.”

Dorian jumped and did _not_ squawk, thank you very much.

Varric chuckled as he sat his towel down at the edge of the water.

The bathhouse had large pools of spring-heated water.  The dwarf could have chosen any pool in any room, but no, he had to join him because of course he did.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Dorian sighed as he sat up straight, running a hand through his hair and collecting the stray sparks that had collected there during his mulling thoughts and dispersed them.  When he looked over, he watched as the dwarf’s chest hair floated in the water like they were melting into it.

“Ugh, you’re going to make hairballs.”

Varric snorted. “That’s what I’m here for: hairballs and startling sulking mages.”

“I was _not_ sulking.”

“Right.  You half-drowning yourself thinking about the Inquisitor and your unrequited love for him wasn’t sulking.”

Dorian blushed and prayed Varric would account it for the hot water.  “What makes you think I was pondering the Inquisitor?”

Varric gave him an unimpressed look and reached for the soap.  “I’m a dwarf not blind, Dorian.  You get this sad thinky look on your face whenever you think he won’t notice.  Well, that and like you’re undressing him with your eyes, but that’s another story.”

Dorian’s blush did not deepen, he swore.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm, sure.  Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, buddy.  Look I don’t care what it is between the two of you, but just tell him already or something.  Andraste’s flaming knickers, it’s like watching Fenris and Hawke all over again with you too – only with less fists through chests and lost puppy eyes.  Well, ok, I take that back.  There are a lot of puppy eyes, but still.  Why do you humans always make things so much more difficult than they need to be?”

Dorian watched Varric a moment, trying to figure him out.  But the dwarf merely ignored him in favor of bathing.

“You’re reading too much into things that are not there, Varric,” he said at last, feeling his chest tighten as he said it.

“Right.  Like I can’t tell you’re in love with him.  You wear all sorts of masks, Sparkler, but they crack whenever he’s around.”

His heartbeat sped up a fraction and he looked away.

He wasn’t in love with the Inquisitor.  He just wasn’t.  That sort of thing wasn’t meant for him.

“I think you’re reality is starting to blur with your books, my dear,” he replied dismissively instead.

Varric snorted.  “Oookay.  Whatever you say.”

Dorian paused then shook his head, standing and drying himself off.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think the others have noticed.  Well, besides Cole and Iron Bull but those are a given.”

Dorian grumbled under his breath as he dressed.  “Goodnight, Varric.  See you in the morning,” he said as cheerfully as he could when he’d finished.

“Sleep well, Sparkler,” Varric winked and Dorian rolled his eyes.

.     .     .

Vitya

Chattering teeth.

That’s what that blasted sound was.

Vitya rolled over onto his back, suppressing a sigh.  He glanced up at the window above the table.  The curtains were thick and had been pulled over the window to keep the chill out but even he could feel the briskness of the wind outside.  He reached a hand up and lifted the curtain just enough to peek outside and was greeted by a light layer of snow on the sill.  Well, the mage’s lack of temperature tolerance could be excused this once, he supposed.

The curtain fell back into place as he shifted on the bed to sit up, gaze drifting over the shivering form across the room.  It was dark but even he could see the quaking ball under the blankets.  Not even the dark tufts of Dorian’s hair were sticking out.

Vitya shook his head and gathered his blankets in his arms.

He knew by now that the mage was too prideful to ask for the things he needed, even when freezing cold.  It was quick work laying out the blankets, but something entirely different crawling under them.

Dorian squeaked as the chilled air hit him and he turned a bit to watch with wide eyes as he crawled in behind him.  Vitya settled around him and draped an arm over the mage’s torso before finally lying still.

“W-what are you doing?”

“You woke me up.”

“Ah, sorry about that.  I’ll ask again.  What are you doing?” Dorian was stiff against the length of his body.

“Korth’s fucking teeth, your toes are icicles!” he muttered.  “Go back to sleep, Dorian.  We both know neither of us are going to sleep with you waking the whole damn inn with your bones chattering the way they are.  Honestly, you lowlanders are ridiculous.  It’s not even an inch of snow outside.  It’ll be gone before the sun’s even high in the sky tomorrow.”

“…Rude…,” Dorian contended after a moment of silence, “but sadly true.”

“By gods, did I actually just hear the great Dorian Pavus agreeing with me on something without a debate?” the Inquisitor joked.

“Oh, shut up you,” Dorian muttered and shifted until he was comfortable.

Vitya chuckled.  “Goodnight, Dorian.”

If he knew any better, he might have actually believed he had heard the soft intake of breath as he pressed the tip of his nose to the junction of the mage’s neck and shoulder.

.     .     .

Dorian

Dorian’s body felt stiff from the position he’d laid in all night, but for the first time in a long while he felt truly warm.  He shifted a bit and the arm around him tightened, pulling him snuggly into the hard chest behind him, and the hand splaying over his heart.

His eyes opened instantly, distinctly aware of the hard plains of the body tucked around him, the strength of the thighs pressed against his own, and the unmistakable stiffness aligned against his buttocks.  It took him a moment to remember the Inquisitor crawling into bed with him in the middle of the night.

Maker!

He may have had plenty of dreams about the man doing just that but never in this context.  There was nothing sexual about the way he wrapped himself around his body, yet he couldn’t help blush at the hardness pressed to him.  The urge to grind back against it was almost instinct to him but he resisted, not daring to embarrass himself more than he already had.

Honestly, what had the bloody bastard been thinking?  Did he not know what this would look like if anyone were to walk in on them?  Most of Skyhold already suspected ulterior motives from him in regards to the Inquisitor.  He didn’t need any more rumors floating about.

“Mmm, you get sparky when your stressing over stuff,” the devil mumbled sleepily behind him.

 _Vishante kaffas_.

His mind was in a panic.  How does one respond in situations like this?  He had no context or past experience to decipher a proper reaction.

The hand on his chest smoothed a gentle path across him.

“Go back to sleep, Dorian.  It’s just me.  We don’t have to be up for another hour at best,” Vitya said softly.

He only ever got sparky when this bloody bastard was barreling around in his thoughts.  It irked him that he could lose his carefully crafted control over a silly crush.

“Oh.”

Dorian cursed himself for his whisper of a response.  He wasn’t a schoolboy!  Why did this barbarian of a man who had a fascination with collecting every elfroot in sight make his heart flutter like one?

The Inquisitor sighed heavily and shifted, slowly sitting up. “Aand you’re just going to keep shocking me.  Alright, I’ll get up.”

“Apologies.  I didn’t…I’m sorry.”  He sat up, drawing a knee into his chest.

Vitya looked back at him as he stretched, clearly noticing the trepidation and nervousness in his voice.  He blinked at Dorian then gave a small smile.

“How is it that you manage to make a sparking bedhead look good?”

Dorian looked up at him.

The Inquisitor’s expression was soft and there was something else there that he couldn’t quite identify.

“Don’t you know I make everything look good,” Dorian sniffed, pulling forth the persona he so often wore.

Vitya breathed out a small laugh, “Oh, I’m very aware.”  His voice grew quiet, eyes searching, “Looks like lightning over dark stormclouds.”

It was like he and Varric had a contest at who could make Dorian blush the easiest.  It was infuriating.

He quickly ran a hand through his hair, static snapping at him.  “Get off my bed, you oaf,” he grumbled, flicking it at the exasperating man.

He did not get butterflies, he told himself, at catching the Inquisitor’s small smile or the light chuckle as he did just that.

.     .     .

Vitya

“Took you long enough,” Varric greeted before winking at Dorian.  “Sleep well?”

“I would have if it wasn’t so bloody cold last night.”

The Inquisitor raised a brow at the banter but turning to the Seeker.  “Everything ready?”

“Yes, Inquisitor.  I’ve already sent a message ahead to Skyhold that we will arrive in a few days.  Is there anything else you feel we should look into in the meantime?”

He shook his head.  “I would very much prefer to return to the hold.  There is a lot the advisors and I need to go over before we head out again.”  He then muttered, “I hate paperwork.”

Dorian smiled softly.

“Perhaps Sparkler here can help you.  He’s good with paperwork.  Got a good grip for _pen_ manship, too.”  Varric gave Dorian a pointed look which resulted in a disgusted noise that rivaled Cassandra’s prominent catchphrase.

Vitya watched Dorian a second before the Seeker brought their attention back to the last leg of their journey ahead.

The remainder of the journey was uneventful.  Winter was coming judging by the changing landscape and the colder the mountains grew.  By the time they reached Skyhold Cassandra was very much done with Dorian’s complaining of the cold and Varric’s endless shenanigans.

“If you will excuse me, Inquisitor, I need to go hit something.”

Vitya’s smile was broad.  “Iron or straw dummies today?”

“Ugh.”

He barked a laugh as she trotted away.  To the others, “What of you?”

“I probably have a stack of letters to go through but I think I’ll head over to the Herald’s Rest to catch up on the gossip,” Varric replied.  “Wicked Grace later?”

“What so you can win what little money I have left?  I don’t think so.”

“See you at eight then,” Varric smiled and the Inquisitor sighed heavily but nodded just the same.

“What about you, Dorian?” he asked as Varric rode his gelding towards the stables without them.

“Hmm?”

“You alright?”

Dorian blinked then looked away.  “Tired, that’s all.”

“If you’re sure,” he replied carefully.

“You needn’t worry about me, Inquisitor.”  Dorian kicked his steed gently and moved down towards the stables.

Vitya followed, still watching him.

He just couldn’t seem to figure the man out.  Every time he thought he understood him, Dorian did something to change that.  The man had many masks and walls, always hiding his thoughts and feelings away whenever Dorian noticed he was watching.

“Good to see you back,” Blackwall greeted as they dismounted.

“Good to be back.  I see you all didn’t burn the keep to the ground while we were gone.”

Blackwall bellowed a laugh.  “Well, Sera nearly set an Orlesian noble on fire.  Does that count?”

Vitya chuckled at that.  “Gods above what did she do that for?”

“Oh, you know she’ll want to tell you first.  Best watch out for pranks in the meantime.  Think she got bored.  You should take her with you next time.”

“I’ll see about that.  Josephine is probably at her last rope with her.”

“Aye, you could say that.”

Vitya’s gaze drew back to Dorian to see him look away quickly.  “I’ll see you later, Dorian?  Someone will need to help me attempt to squash Varric tonight.”

A small smile played at Dorian’s lips as he turned.  “I wouldn’t miss it, Inquisitor.  Blackwall.”

“Dorian,” the warrior inclined his head as the mage left.  “Everything alright between you two?”

Vitya shrugged.  “I suppose?  He’s been acting off lately.”

“Ah, so it wasn’t just me then.  Wonder what’s on his mind.”

“Believe me if I could get him to just answer a question straight, it’d be a miracle.”

Blackwall chuckled at that as they headed into the keep.  “He does have a way with words, that one.”

“Anything I should know since I’ve been gone?”

“Troops are coming along nicely, but the Commander will tell you more about that.”

“What about you and our lady ambassador?” Vitya quirked an eyebrow as he snuck an apple off a table in the kitchens as they passed through.

Blackwall’s cheeks pinked.  “I-I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Of course you don’t,” Vitya teased as he took a bite, the crunch of it loud off the stone walls.

The warrior sputtered and the Inquisitor just snickered as they made their way up the stairs.

“Afternoon, Josie,” he greeted.  “You look lovely today.  Don’t you think, Blackwall?”

“You’re terrible, you know that?” Blackwall muttered, then louder, “Greetings, Lady Montilyet.  I hope we aren’t intruding.”

“Oh, not at all.  Thank you, Inquisitor,” the ambassador said from her desk, quill in hand.  “Was your mission successful?”

“Very much so, though we may have a new dragon to deal with.  Again.  Iron Bull’s gonna love me.”

Blackwall chuckled, “Aye, he will.”

“You almost sound like you’re getting out of it,” Vitya teased and Blackwall groaned.  “Anything I need to know about?”

“Leliana and I are still processing favors to obtain an invitation to the empress’s ball.  However, there are some items awaiting your review on your desk, Your Worship.”

“Ah, thank you.  Best get that done with.  I hate paperwork.  Everything else can wait until tomorrow’s war meeting, right?  Or do we need one before?”

“I believe everything else can wait for the moment.  Were you successful with Hawke’s friend?”

Blackwall turned to him curiously as he nodded.  “Aye, we were.  I’ll fill you all in during our meeting.  Looks like we’re heading to the Approach next.  Never been to a desert before.  Should be fun.”

Blackwall snorted.  “If you consider sand and heat fun, then yes.”

Vitya shrugged.  “Right, well, I’ll see you both later.  Oh, and Blackwall, don’t forget to speak with Josephine about that…thing you wanted me to remind you about.”  His eyes gleamed with mirth and mischief as the ambassador turned her attention to the now blushing champion.

“You’re a devil,” Blackwall muttered to him as he made a quick escape out into the main hall.

Or it would have been an escape if he hadn’t run straight into Mother Giselle.

“Oh, Your Worship, you have returned.  I had hoped to speak with you if I may have a moment of your time.”

Well, it wasn’t like he had anything else planned but paperwork and a bath.

“I have news regarding one of your…companions,” she said after he gestured for her to follow him out of the way of others, “The Tevinter.”

The Inquisitor sighed heavily.  Of course she’d want to talk about him.  When did he never stop hearing complaints about the mage?

“Has Dorian done something wrong?”

Shit, hell if he knew half the stuff he supposedly did wrong himself.

The lowlanders had way too many rules.  He couldn’t keep up with them all.

“No, thankfully.  It’s nothing like that,” she replied, choosing her words carefully, “I have been in contact with his family: House Pavus, out of Qarinus.  Are you familiar with them?”

“Well, not personally.  Dorian’s mentioned them before.  They’re evidently not in good graces with each other.”

“Then are you aware of his…situation?”  At his confused look she continued.  “The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid.  They’ve asked to arrange a meeting.  Quietly, without telling him.  They fear it’s the only way he’ll come.  Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I’d hoped…”

Uh huh.

“Just what kind of meeting do they have in mind?”

“I believe they just want to talk, to understand why Dorian felt he had to come here.  Somewhere private.  Away from Skyhold, but not in Tevinter.”  She looked pleading, “You make them nervous, I think.  They don’t understand why he’s with the Inquisition.  They want him to come home.”

That perplexed him.  “Dorian’s his own man.  He can make his own decisions about his life.  Why the need for secrecy?”

“They believe the young man would refuse, and the letter implies he’d have cause.  Yet they are remorseful for whatever came before.  This is a chance for dialogue.  There is deceit in bringing the young man to this meeting without his foreknowledge, I know.  But…does it not lead to a greater kindness if there is potential for reconciliation?”

Vitya sighed and scratched the back of his head.

No, it really didn’t lead to a greater kindness.  From what he understood, Dorian had every right to be angry with his family.  Besides, he was a grown man.  Everyone needed to live their own lives regardless what others thought.

“Have you passed this on to Leliana?  It could be a trap.  We certainly have enough enemies, and it seems odd to me they’d send it to you.”

She smiled softly.  “They did so because they do not know you, Inquisitor.  I’m not of the Imperial Chantry, but they know what I represent.  These are parents concerned about the welfare of their son.  How could I not do whatever possible?”  She paused, clasping her hands before her.  “I would speak to the young man myself, but…he does not care for me.  Thus I come to you.  If any good can come of this, we must try.  As for your concern, it is mine as well.  It is another reason why I seek your aid in this matter.”

“And if Dorian refuses?”

She opened her palms to him.  “Hopefully that would be the end of it.  If not…Well, that’s why you should be there.  I only wish to see him try to mend this relationship.”

Vitya shook his head.  “I’m not going to trick him into meeting his family, Mother Giselle.  I respect him enough not to do that.”

The woman sighed heavily, almost in exasperation as if she had expected this from him.  “I feared you might say that.  The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe Tavern to take him onward.  If he truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end the matter there.  All I ask is that you try.”

His lips pressed into a thin line.  “I want to see this [letter](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Note:_Official-Looking_Letter) for myself before I do anything about this.”

She nodded and pulled a piece of parchment from her sleeve.  “I thought you might.  I should return to my duties and allow you time to recover from your journey.  Forgive me, your worship, for my intrusion.”

The parchment crinkled in his hand as he thumbed under the broken seal.  He was already scowling by the time he’d finished, walking briskly towards his chambers.  He certainly understood why a parent would be alarmed at their child being in harm’s way – his own mother probably was, he imagined.  What bothered him more than the secrecy and deception was the fact they would be watched, that the tavern would not be the final destination.  To him, it sounded like a trap waiting to happen and he wasn’t about to just throw Dorian to the wolves.  He deserved better than that, better than the lies and deception.

The Inquisitor very nearly turned around to seek the mage out, but they had just gotten back.  And if he knew anything about Dorian, he was likely already in a bath relaxing.  If it was anything else, he’d be tempted to disturb him, but not this.  No, he would wait until this evening or tomorrow.

Someone had already lit the fireplace for him and some candles, he noted, as he reached the top of the stairs to his room.  He toed off his boots with a sigh of relief and placed the letter on the desk with the pile of papers Josephine had promised him.

Bath first.

He’d deal with that mess later.

He _really_ didn’t like paperwork.


	2. Chapter 2

Dorian

Dorian didn’t register the presence next to him at first, completely enthralled by the text he was reading.  Well, not until they cleared their throat.

He looked up to find the Inquisitor looking down at him sheepishly.  Well if that wasn’t one of his favorite things.

“Sorry, to disturb you.  Is this a bad time?”

Something was off with the expression in Vitya’s eyes and the tone he’d used.  His shoulders were tense, Dorian noticed.

“Couldn’t stay away from me could you?  My dear Inquisitor, it’s barely been a day.” He chuckled to lighten the mood, getting a huff in reply.  “What can I do for you?”

 _Preferably you_ , Dorian thought and then quickly shoved that thought down into whatever abyss it had decided to crawl out of.

Vitya rubbed the back of his neck, one of the many ticks he had when he was nervous about something.  “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

Dorian smiled at that.  “Always with the questions.  Tsk, tsk – what will people say?”

This man was just full of questions lately.  He’d thought long ago they’d exhausted all possible conversations that wouldn’t fly over the man’s head, yet the Inquisitor surprised him every time.

Vitya just rolled his eyes. “Dorian, there’s a letter you need to see.”

“A letter?  Is it a naughty letter?  A humorous proposal from some Antivan dowager?”  Dorian had expected a blush like the many the Avvar had given him in the past, not the grimace he got in reply.

“Not quite.  It’s from your father.”

And with that, Dorian’s good mood at seeing him disappeared.

“My father.  I see.  And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?”

“A meeting.”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed.  “Show me this letter.”

It was in his hands without a moment of hesitation and he had to stop himself from burning it to ashes before he’d finished reading.

“I know my son?” Dorian growled and waved the damn thing.  “What my father knows about me would barely fill a thimble.  This is so _typical_.  I’m willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is a henchman hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

His heart was beating fast and there was a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.  This couldn’t be happening.  Here he thought he’d be safe.  Evidently, he was very wrong.

“You think your father would actually do that?”

“No…although I wouldn’t put it past him.”

No, he wouldn’t put it past his father at all.  Not after last time.  He didn’t trust the man anymore.  He couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted to.

“This could just be the Venatori,” Vitya offered, crossing his arms across his broad chest and leaning against the bookshelf.  “I wanted to talk to you before taking it to Leliana.”

“Perhaps, although this does look like my father’s penmanship.  Or…could he have joined the Venatori?  No, that can’t…well, anything is possible.  Alexius did.”  Dorian looked away, staring at the parchment in his hand.

Could his father have joined the Venatori?  He’d certainly proven his principles didn’t mean a damn before.

Why now?  Was it because he had joined the Inquisition?  He shouldn’t be surprised it had taken this long for his family to get word of where he was.

He couldn’t trust his father.  The only person he had ever truly trusted was off currently to Vigil’s Keep thanks to the Inquisitor contacting Warden Nathaniel Howe.  Thank the Maker for Leliana’s suggestion.  Northern Wardens may not have considered Felix, but at least these Wardens weren’t so foolish.

“You could have kept this secret.  Brought me there under any circumstance you’d like.”  Dorian turned his gaze back up to the Inquisitor, fear creeping through him like spiders.

Hurt flashed across the dark hazel eyes he’d come to know so well.  “I’d have thought after all we’ve been through you’d think more highly of me than that, Dorian.”

“I…,” shame spread through him swiftly.  “I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I’m just…”

“Scared?” he asked gently after Dorian remained quiet for too long.

Damn it all.  He didn’t want the Inquisitor to see his shortcomings, his weaknesses.

“You don’t have to do this, Dorian.  It’s your decision.  If your family can’t take a simple no, then that is on them not you.”

Dorian snorted at that.  If only his parents could see it like that.

“There seems to be bad blood between you and your family,” Vitya commented carefully.

A dry laugh broke through Dorian’s throat.  If only his friend knew.

“Interesting turn of phrase.  But you’re correct.  They don’t care for my choices, nor I for theirs.”

Vitya’s brows furrowed.  “Because you wouldn’t get married?  Because you left?  You’re your own man.  You should be able to make your own choices.”

His throat tightened.  This man…

“I wish that were the case, but you’re right, at least on some of it.”  He sighed heavily and waved his hand dismissively, letting the letter fall to the desk.  “No, let’s go.  Let’s meet this so called ‘family retainer.’  If it’s a trap, we can escape and kill everyone.  You’re good at that.”  Something in his stomach flutter when he caught sight of Vitya’s small smile.  “If it’s not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his alarm in his ‘wit’s end.’  I wonder how much my father paid this man to wait around just in case I showed.”

“Fair enough,” the Inquisitor said with a raise of his eyebrows, watching the mage carefully.  After a pause, “When do you want to do this?”

 _Never really_.  “We still haven’t recovered from our prior journey and I’m sure you have more important duties to attend to besides being a messenger for my father…That did not come out right.  Forgive me.”

“You’re upset.”  His voice was just as gentle as his expression.

“You needn’t worry about me, Inquisitor.  I’ll be fine.  As you said, it would be nice if they would simply take a no for an answer.  Alas, that is not how my family works.”

At that Vitya snorted.  “Oh, I’ve noticed.  I can only assume they’re as stubborn as you.”

“I am not stubborn, thank you very much.”

Vitya smiled and it reached his eyes.  “Difficult, then.”

“Now you’re just being rude,” Dorian stated, unimpressed.

He chuckled at that and straightened.  “I better get back to my duties before Josephine hunts me down.  It’s like the paperwork never ends here.”

“Well, that is your job to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Hmmm, that sounds like responsibility and I want no part of it.”

Mischief glinted in those beautiful eyes of his and Dorian swallowed.  Maker, he could drown in them when he smiled like that.

“Oh, get going you, before you get us both in trouble,” Dorian swatted at him.

The Inquisitor just chuckled again and turned, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

.     .     . 

Vitya

He’d thought about it.  He really did.  But this was something he wanted taken care of before he had to worry chasing Venatori down all over the Western Approach.  The Inquisitor set out for Redcliffe with Dorian, Sera, and the Iron Bull.  Whatever was to come, at least he and Dorian weren’t alone.

Dorian was abnormally quiet on the trip to where they’d met.  It was the first time they’d been there since being thrown into the future together.  It certainly wasn’t one of his favorite memories, but at least they’d made it through that nightmare.  Dorian had been there for him when all he felt was panic.  He could be there for Dorian in this no matter how it played out.

A part of him was afraid that if this went as Mother Giselle wanted, that Dorian would leave.  It made a part of him ache in the same way it had when he’d left home to attend the Conclave.  He had no claim to Dorian.  The man could choose to do with his life as he saw fit.  Yet Vitya did hope he would stay.

“Need us to go in with you, boss?” the Iron Bull asked as they made their way to the courtyard outside the tavern.

Dorian was tense as he stared at the building.

Vitya shook his head.  “No, but stay close by in case we need you.  Keep an eye out will you?  I don’t like this.”

Bull nodded and Sera looked around at all the people.

“And keep her out of trouble will you?” the Inquisitor teased.  “We don’t need any exploding jars of bees causing havoc out here.”

Sera stuck her tongue out at him.  “Piss off.”

He winked at her and turned towards Dorian.  “Are you ready?”

“Let’s get this over with,” the mage responded without turning to him, striding toward the building.

The tavern was just as dark as he remembered, but instead of music and drinks, the place was as empty and quiet as if it had been abandoned.

“Uh oh,” Dorian said nervously, “Nobody’s here.  This doesn’t bode well.”

“Dorian.”

Vitya couldn’t help but notice the sudden tension in Dorian’s body as they turned to stare at the noble in the stairwell.

“Father,” Dorian said quietly before his voice grew louder with emotion, “So the whole story about the ‘family retainer’ was just…what?  A smoke screen?”

The man was older than Dorian but had the same olive skin, same dark hair.  Yet he carried himself very differently as he walked towards them.

“Then you were told,” the man stated before turning to the Avvar, “I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor.  I never intended for you to be involved.”

Vitya’s brows furrowed.

Apologize to him?  Dorian was the one that had been more deceived than him at this moment.

“Of course not.  Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor.  What would people think?” Dorian’s body was tense with fear, hurt, and anger as he glared at his father.  “What is this exactly, Father?  Ambush?  Kidnapping?  Warm family reunion?”

Magister Pavus sighed in frustration, speaking to the Inquisitor, “This is how it has always been.”

Vitya very quickly realized he didn’t like this man.  He talked about Dorian like he wasn’t standing right there in front of them.

“Considering you lied to get him here, and the things he’s told me, Dorian has every right to be furious.”

Dorian half turned to him, old hurts playing in his eyes like a storm, “You don’t know the half of it!  But maybe you should.”

“Dorian, there’s no need –”

“I prefer the company of men.  My father disapproves.”

Staring at the vulnerability in Dorian’s eyes, he could see just how much his friend had laid bare in those simple words.  Yet it confused him.  What did loving men have to do with any of this?

“Huh?” he replied and immediately kicking himself mentally.

“Did I stutter?  Men, and the company thereof.  As in sex.  Surely you’ve heard of it,” Dorian replied hotly.

Vitya scowled. “I’ve more than heard of it, actually.  Do you really need to ask me that question?”

“No!  The Herald of Andraste?  I am shocked and scandalized,” the mage snarked.

“Such sarcasm,” Vitya deadpanned.

Something shifted in the mage’s eyes.  “You’re not exactly subtle, oh Lord Inquisitor.”

Dorian’s father gave a gruff sigh.  “I should have known that’s what this was about.”

Dorian turned back to his father, anger flashing across his face.  “No.  You don’t get to make those assumptions.  You know _nothing_ about the Inquisitor.”

The man pulled himself to his full height, back straight.  “This display is uncalled for, son.”

“No, it _is_ called for.  You called for it by luring me here.”

“This is not what I wanted,” he growled.

“I’m never been what you wanted, Father, or had you forgotten?”

The air felt heavy and thick with static electricity as if a thunderstorm was about to roll into the tavern at any moment.  Vitya didn’t understand what was going on, but he was irritated with the man for upsetting Dorian like this.  He’d never seen him this hurt and scared before.  Whatever had happened between them had certainly opened old wounds.

“That’s a big concern in Tevinter then?” he asked, hoping to understand more.

It didn’t make sense to him.  The Avvar didn’t have this problem.

“Only if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard,” Dorian replied, hurt in his voice.  “Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage – perfect body, perfect mind.  The perfect leader.  It means every perceived flaw – every aberration – is deviant and shameful.  It must be _hidden_.”

Dorian looked at his father and the man had the audacity to look almost sheepish.

“So that’s what all this is about?  Who you sleep with?”

What was it with the lowlanders making things more complicated than they needed to be?

Dorian’s anger flashed.  “That’s not _all_ it’s about.”

“Dorian, please, if you’ll only listen to me,” Halward begged.

“Why?  So you can spout more convenient lies?” he pointed accusingly.  “ _He_ taught me to hate blood magic.  ‘The resort of the weak mind.’  Those are _his_ words.  But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?  You tried to _change_ me!”  His voice cracked at the end and something dark curled in Vitya’s stomach as Dorian’s words sunk in.

“I only wanted what was best for you!”

“You wanted what was best for _you_!  For your fucking legacy!  Anything for that!”

Vitya could only watch as he witnessed his friend’s heartache as Dorian walked over to the bar and gripped the edge tightly.

His father sighed.  “If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition –”

“You didn’t!” Dorian rounded on him.  “I joined the Inquisition because it’s the right thing to do.  Once, I would have had a father who would have known that.”

Halward opened his mouth but Vitya cut him off, “I think you’ve done more than enough for today, Magister Pavus.”

“I will speak to my son,” the man glared.

“No, I don’t think you will.  Not unless Dorian wishes to continue this conversation.”

“Believe me, I don’t,” Dorian replied and crossed the room.  “Let’s go, Inquisitor.”

He nodded and Dorian strode through the threshold and back out into the sunlight.  Vitya paused at the door, turning back to the magister.  “If you ever try to trick Dorian again, try to hurt him or control him in any way, I will not hesitate to open a rift in your chest.  Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

The magister stood frozen, stance shifting.  “You are bluffing.  I merely want what is best for my son.”

“What you want is horseshit,” he replied and the anchor flared to life with his anger.  “No parent has the right to dictate what their child does with their life, least of all their love life.”

The magister paled.

“Stay away from Dorian.  This is your only warning.”  And with that he let the door shut with a bang behind him.

Dorian stood with the others, rage and hurt still present in his posture while Sera tried to cheer him up.

Iron Bull looked up at him, suspicion in his eye.  “Everything alright, boss?”

“Of course.  Unless the rest of you have some shopping to do, how does everyone feel about dealing with some bandits in Hafter’s Woods before we head back to Skyhold?”

Dorian looked up.  “I’d like that.”

The Iron Bull just looked between them, calculating.  “Sounds good to me.  Sera here can try out some of her bees then.”

“Better than bears, yeah?” Sera chimed in.

“Well, let’s go take a fort, hmm?”


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian

Dorian leaned against the wall beside the window, staring out at the flurry of snow floating down from the thick clouds that blanketed the Frostbacks.  He didn’t care there was a chill by the window from the icy glass.  His disarrayed thoughts distracted him enough from it.

Dorian’s eyes stung as he held back tears.

No.  He wasn’t going to cry about this whole mess again.  All the shit his family had put him through could stuff itself back where it bloody well came from.  He’d actually gotten good at ignoring the pain, the loss, but no.  His fucking father had to find him – trick him!  It was just like his father really.

If he didn’t need to get some work done, Dorian would be back in his room drowning his emotions in wine.  Again.  But the others had given him odd looks all the way back to Skyhold.  He didn’t need to give them anymore reason to question him.  He just wanted to forget.

“Hey,” the Inquisitor said softly as he joined him by the window.  “Thought you’d be in your quarters after all that.”

“And do what exactly?”

The Avvar shrugged, staring out at Skyhold.  “Oh, I don’t know.  World domination.  Isn’t that what you Tevinters do?”

Dorian shook his head, his throat tight.

Hazel eyes watched him a moment.  “Are you alright?”

He sighed.  “No, not really.”

“What can I do to help, Dorian?”

The mage looked up at the ceiling briefly.  This man, he swore.

“You’ve done enough, Inquisitor.  Don’t worry about me.”

Vitya cocked his head to the side, expression inquisitive.  “He hurt you.  What your father did was wrong.”

“Too bad he’ll never understand why.”

“You said he tried to change you?

“Out of desperation,” he crossed his arms, fingers digging into cloth and skin.  “I wouldn’t put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away.  Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside.  He was going to do a blood ritual.  Alter my mind.  Make me…acceptable.  I found out.  I left.”

“Can blood magic actually do that?  I mean, my people aren’t exactly new to the concept, but I’ve never heard of its use like you lowlanders do with it.”

“Maybe.  It could also have left me a drooling vegetable,” Dorian replied somberly as he turned his attention back to the flurries, “It crushed me to think he found that absurd risk preferable to scandal.  Part of me has always hoped he didn’t really want to go through with it.  If he had…I can’t even imagine the person I would be now.  I wouldn’t like that Dorian.”

He didn’t want to think about who he might have become.  The self-loathing filtered in now and again, but that…He’d rather be dead than have something so important to who he was forced out of him.  Out of all the things his father had done to stop his nature, he didn’t know which was worse, but that was certainly high on the list.

His voice was quiet, surprised at himself to revealing something to the Inquisitor, something he’d only shared with Felix after the ordeal.  “He locked me away once for my preferences.  Even killed to tear me out of a lover’s arms.  At this point, I don’t know what to think of what my father is capable of, of what he’s willing to do to keep me in line with his dreams.”

He couldn’t help but notice the Inquisitor’s hands clench, tone suppressed with anger.  “The decision was yours to talk to him, not mine.  Frankly, the temptation to break his nose was nearly impossible to resist, the way he talked over you, around you.  Maybe we should have Sera send him some bees.  She’s rather fond of those after all.”

Dorian couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the corners of his lips even if his reply was sad.  “He’s a good man, my father.  Deep down.  He taught me principle is important.  He cares for me, in his way, but he won’t ever change.  I can’t forgive him for what he did.  I won’t.”

“It doesn’t sound like care to me, but you know your father better than I do.  Maybe one day you’ll get to talk – eye to eye – without him treating you like a child.”

“You’re very optimistic.  It’s a charming trait.”  Dorian looked at him, subconsciously relaxing a bit in the man’s steady presence.

“Have you seen the shit we’ve been through?  Optimism is about the only thing that keeps me standing at this point.”

“True enough.  I just hope that the rest of us take a little bit of your burdens off your shoulders.”  He spoke softly, “Thank you for bringing me out there, even if it didn’t work out.  Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

“I don’t think less of you,” Vitya’s tender eyes searched his, “More, if possible.”

“The things you say.”

“I think you’re very brave.” Vitya leaned in, no lie on his face.

Dorian blinked at him in surprise.  “Brave?”

No one had ever said that to him before.

“It’s not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path.”

Dorian swallowed.  “My father never understood.  Living a lie…it festers inside of you, like poison.  You have to fight for what is in your heart.”

He didn’t dare move as Vitya walked towards him, hand sliding gently to rest on the side of his neck, thumb tenderly running a path along his jaw near his ear.

“You don’t have to hide who you are here, Dorian.  You aren’t alone anymore.”

This man.  This wonderfully frustrating man.

The Inquisitor leaned in and Dorian half expected – half _hoped_ – for the press of his lips against his own, but instead the man pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Whatever comes of this world, of any of us, you will always have a home here, a place to be free.  Walk your own path without fear, Dorian.”

Dorian closed his eyes, hand shaking as it came to rest on Vitya’s forearm.  His throat was tight and his eyes threatened to betray him.

Why was his heart beating so hard against his ribs?  Surely the Inquisitor could hear it.  It was so _loud_!

He hadn’t realized tears slid down his cheeks anyway as he basked in the Avvar’s presence until Vitya’s arms wrapped around him and fingers stroked through his hair as Dorian buried his face in the grey-blue fabric of the Inquisitor’s tunic.  He wanted to be ashamed of his behavior, but the firm press of the body against his own, the comforting arms and tender touch, kept him there.  They weren’t so tight that he felt suffocated or forced.  For once in his life he actually felt safe, loved even.  And that was a dangerous road to go down.  Even at the Inquisitor’s words, he was still afraid.  He’d spent too long hiding and running from his heart to just let it be free now.

The action fought against him but he pulled away anyway.  Crying before the Inquisitor was one thing.  Crying in front of the whole library was another entirely.  He’d prefer neither.

Vitya’s hands lay gently against his upper arms and the touch burned through Dorian’s clothes.  There were too many emotions running through his head.  He couldn’t handle this.

“Dorian?  Hey,” Vitya said softly as if he were speaking to a spooked animal.  “Why don’t you take the day off?  Go relax.”

He shook his head, trying to clear it, voice cracking against his will, “No.  I…I need to go over some finds Leliana’s scouts discovered.”

“Fiona can have Alexius go over that.  You’re not the only stubborn, highly intelligent mage here.”

Dorian snorted out a laugh that surprised him.  It wasn’t even that funny to him.

Maker, he was a mess!

Vitya’s hands rubbed soothingly along his arms.  “Come with me to my quarters.”

“Vitya?” he asked softly, confusion, hope and fear mixing all in one as he looked up into those tender eyes.

The rogue hooked their arms together and led him through the library and out a door that would take them past most of the main hall.

“I…I can’t,” Dorian protested, stepping back even as his hand clung to Vitya’s arm just the same.

Vitya laid a hand over his.  “You can.  Just a bit further, Dorian.”

He swallowed as he let the Inquisitor lead him out into the hall and quickly across to the door to his chambers.  His heart was hammering in his chest, all too aware of the eyes and casual conversations going on from those clustered in the main hall even as the door shut behind him and muffling their sounds.

What was he doing?  He shouldn’t be doing this.  He shouldn’t be here.

They’re already going to be talking.  They weren’t alone in the library.  And then the main hall—

“Sit, Dorian,” Vitya instructed as he gently pushed him onto the sofa in Vitya’s room.

How did they get there?  He didn’t remember ascending the stairs.

Vitya took the book that had been lying on the cushion and crossed the room, placing it on his desk before grabbing a bottle off the shelves behind it.  He popped the cork off it and handed it to Dorian.

“I’ll have some things brought up,” the Inquisitor said simply and turned to the stairs.

“Inquisitor,” he called weakly, “Why?  What…?”

Vitya’s expression was soft and fond as he replied, “You need a friend right now.  I’m not about to abandon one of my closest.”

And with that he was gone.

Tears sprang anew and he pressed a hand to his mouth, too many emotions to decipher coursing through him.

.     .     .

Dorian awoke the next morning, his head pounding and the light coming from the windows surrounding the room certainly didn’t help with that.  The blankets around him were warm and soft and he groaned into the comfort of the pillow.  He didn’t want to move.

The creak of a chair caught his attention and he peaked up, gradually realizing he was definitely not in his room.  When the bed dipped beside him and moved the blanket off his shoulder and out of his view, he froze at the sight of the Inquisitor.

“Morning,” Vitya said quietly.  “Sorry, I forgot to close the drapes.  They’re probably not helping the hangover you most likely have.  You drink wine like a fish drinks water, you know that?”

Dorian blinked, cheeks undoubtedly red with his blush.  “I…We…Um…”

There were blanks in his memory that he only got from drinking far more than he should have.

“Speechless?  My, what have you done with my dear Dorian?” Vitya teased and adjusted the blanket back over Dorian’s shoulder and tucking him in.  “Go back to sleep, Dorian.  You look like you could use it.  I’ll have the kitchens bring something up for you.”

Dorian shot his arm out from under the blankets, heart in his throat, when the Inquisitor went to stand which earned him a concerned look.

“I’m likely going to embarrass myself, but,” he said quietly, afraid of his own voice for once, “we didn’t…um… _do_ anything last night, did we?”

Maker’s breath, this man.  What had he done last night?  He shouldn’t be in the Inquisitor’s bed of all things!

Vitya quirked an eyebrow at him before realization dawned on his face.  “No, we didn’t.  That would have been taking advantage of you in your emotional and very drunk state.  All we did was sit by the fire and played chess…and drink…a lot.  You fell asleep on the floor so I moved you to the bed.  The floor isn’t very comfortable to sleep on.  I know that too well by now.”

He blushed harder, and he couldn’t help but to glance at the other side of the bed.  It surprisingly didn’t look slept in.

Vitya seemed to notice and added, “I’ve actually been awake since you fell asleep.  The paperwork I needed to do could wait even though Josephine will likely kill me for not getting them done in time.  But you were more important last night.”

Dorian wanted to burrow under the blankets, breathe in the scent he now realized was Vitya, and hide from the world.  “The things you say.”

Vitya smiled softly. “So you’ve said.  Sleep, Dorian.  Everything will be alright.”

With that he stood and drew the curtains of the bed closed, shrouding him in darkness.  Dorian could hear the wind outside the balconies, the crackling of the fire across from the four-poster bed, and the Inquisitor’s retreating footsteps across the rugs.

 _Maker, Dorian, what are you doing?_ He thought to himself, fingers sliding across the smooth material of the pillow beneath him, _Vitya’s_ pillow.

For the moment, he chose to enjoy the comfort the Inquisitor had given him.  His head was buzzing with thought after thought, but he didn’t want to deal with them.  Not right now.  Not with his head pounding and his heart fluttering.


	4. Chapter 4

Dorian

“Sand is itchy,” Vitya grumbled as he scratched at his chin.

Dorian snorted.  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have decided not to shave and then fall head first into the sand.”

The Inquisitor pouted of all things and it shouldn’t have looked as good on him as it did, Dorian thought.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting that varghest to start thrashing about thank you very much.”

“As I recall,” Blackwall chimed in, “someone said they were excited to see a desert.  What was that about going to new places?”

The Inquisitor hung his head and muttered defeat under his breath and the rest of them chuckled.

They had spent five days in the Western Approach, and though Dorian was pleased for once that he wasn’t the only one complaining about the weather, it was interesting to see their dear leader joining them.  Poor sod was melting in his leathers.  It was quite a change to his usual indifference to the weather.

The Tevinter ritual tower loomed over the dunes and rocks, harsh desert sun glinting off the spires.  Banners atop the stone walls and columns sagged in the stillness of the dry air.

Besides the obvious disrepair, it wasn’t so different from the architecture back home.

“Looks like Warden Stroud and Hawke are waiting for us at the base,” Blackwall commented, eyes scanning the entrance.

The Inquisitor nodded, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

The warrior and mage turned to them when they arrived, air thick with tension and a familiar scent clinging to the sand.

“I’m glad you made it, Inquisitor.” Stroud’s thick Orlesian accent was quiet. “I fear they’ve already started the ritual.”

“Blood magic, I’d wager.  You can smell it…or see the corpses,” quipped Hawke, her staff in hand.

Sera wrinkled her nose.  “Ew, that’s what that smell is?”

Vitya sighed heavily.  “Wonderful.”

Dorian followed the Inquisitor’s lead as he led them up the steps.

Bloodied bodies were piled against a crumbling stone wall.  A surviving Warden whimpered and backed away from the mages and demons standing about.

_Great, just what we need.  Demons._

Past the crackling Fade rift, a figure he recognized all too well from his time in the Vyrantium Circle stood at the top of the tower, pompous as always.  “Warden-Commander Clarel’s orders were clear.”

_Oh, and an utter ass!  My lucky day!_

“This is wrong!” the Warden begged and Dorian grimaced as the man’s companion thrust his knife into the Warden’s heart.

Through the blood magic a rage demon sprang forth and was bound.

“Inquisitor,” the Tevinter said, giving them a rather flamboyant bow, “What an unexpected pleasure.  Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium.”

_He really doesn’t change, does he?_

“You are no Warden,” Stroud stated gruffly.

“But you are,” Erimond sighed and paced with disinterest, “The one Clarel let slip.  And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me.  Shall we see how that goes?”

Vitya stood silently, eyes scanning the mages and demons carefully.  His lips were tugged into a slight frown.

Dorian’s gaze followed his, something was wrong with the men.

“Wardens, leave this place,” Stroud ordered.  “This is not what we stand for.”

“Oh, were you hoping to garner sympathy?” Erimond chuckled. “Maybe make the Wardens feel a bit of remorse?  Wardens, hands up.”

The Wardens raised their hands as Erimond did, dropping them to their sides as he commanded them after.

“You do know you can do blood magic without actually killing someone, right?  I’m not a mage and even I know that,” the Inquisitor finally said, turning his attention to Erimond. “If you need to kill someone, you aren’t doing blood magic right.  Neither is controlling others for the sake of your own ego.”

 “Corypheus has taken their minds.  Release them!” Stroud growled.

“They did this to themselves,” Erimond sneared, looking down his nose at them. “You see, the calling had the Wardens terrified.  They looked _everywhere_ for help.”

“Even Tevinter.”  Stroud gripped his sword.

“Yes.  And since it was my master who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared,” the mage stroked his goatee – _Oh, Maker’s breath, are we going to go through every villainous cliché now?_ Dorian thought – as he continued, “I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together, we came up with a plan: raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

“Ah, I was wondering when the demon army was going to show up,” Vitya commented with a shrug.

Erimond jerked back, ceasing his lectured pacing.  “You knew about it, did you?  Well, then, here you are.”

Vitya smirked.  “Lost your fancy words have you?”

Dorian and Sera snickered.

Erimond glared at them.  “Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect.  They’re now my master’s slaves.  This was simply a test.  Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas.”

The Inquisitor leaned closer to Dorian and whispered, “Can I shoot him yet?”

Dorian smiled fondly and whispered back, “But the monologue.”

“I got a knife,” Sera smiled.  “Think I can stick him from here?”

“Enough you lot,” Blackwall glared, “This is serious.”

The Inquisitor nodded and turned back to the Tevinter.  “Do you really think that won’t just make everything worse?  The Wardens protect against the Blight.  What if we fall into another one?”

“The Elder One commands the Blight.  He is not commanded _by_ it like the mindless darkspawn.  The Blight is not unstoppable or uncontrollable.  It is simply a tool.”

Dorian snorted.  “No, Livius.  _You’re_ the tool.”

“I would say the same about you, Dorian.  You should have joined Alexius, though you would have been another disappointment in the end.”

Dorian clinched his jaw.

“As for me,” Erimond continued smugly, “while the Elder One rules from the Golden City, we, the Venatori, will be his god-kings here in this world.”

Vitya looked unimpressed.  “A handful of demons and a Fade rift isn’t going to stop me from putting an arrow in your eye.”

Dorian smiled softly at that, looking to the Inquisitor’s profile.

“Then perhaps you would like a demonstration,” Erimond glowered, raising a glowing red hand.

Dorian tightened his grip on his staff as Vitya gasped in pain, the mark on his palm glowing green and red.

“After all, the Elder One did tell me of what he did to Haven.  He also showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again.”

Another jolt from the flickering red of the spell Erimond was casting brought the Inquisitor to his knees and clutching at his wrist.  Dorian’s heart felt like it was about to be ripped from his chest at the sight.

“The mark you bear?  The anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil?  You stole that from my master.  He’s been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade.”

Dorian saw red as he turned back to Erimond.  _I’m going to kill you for hurting him._

He barely noticed when Vitya staggered to his feet, anger and pain flashing across his face as he outstretched his hand towards the rift in front of them.

Erimond was talking still but it passed over Dorian as if it were nothing at all.  It wasn’t until he felt the push from the Inquisitor disturbing the rift that he jerked his attention back to the others.

“Kill them!” shouted Erimond as he stumbled away like the coward he was.

Sera covered the Inquisitor as he struggled to get his fingers to grip his bow.  Dorian could see he was still in pain from the stiff line of his jaw and rigidness of his gloved hands.

He turned back to the battle and threw a barrier around as many of his comrades as he could before targeting the Wardens.  By the time they were finished and the rift closed, Erimond was long gone.

“So…that went well,” Hawke offered in the silence.

“Clearly,” Sera grumbled, shaking blood off her throwing knives.

Dorian’s gaze went instantly to Vitya.  The Inquisitor was watching his flexing fingers, expression pensive.

“You were correct,” Stroud sighed in defeat. “Through their ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus.”

“And the warden warriors?” Hawke asked, looking about. “Of course.  Sacrificed during the ritual.  What a waste.”

“Human sacrifice, demon summoning…You lowlanders really look at this and think it’s a good idea?” Vitya looked at them, rubbing his left hand.

“The fearful and the foolish mostly, Inquisitor,” Hawke replied.

Stroud glared at Hawke.  “The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons.”

Vitya shook his head, muttering, “Lowlanders.  I’ll never understand you.”

Hawke started pacing, voicing distaste for the actions of the blood mages.  Dorian ignored her as he watched the tenseness in Vitya’s shoulders.  Dorian swallowed, fearful of what kind of damage Erimond’s spell had done.

Stroud shook his head and turned to the Inquisitor. “I believe I know where the Wardens are, Your Worship.  Erimond fled in that direction—” he pointed off into the distance – “There’s an abandoned Warden fortress in that way.  Adamant.”

“I guess they didn’t want to summon a demon army out in public,” Vitya commented.

“The Warden and I will scout out Adamant and confirm that the other Wardens are there,” Hawke stated and turned to leave, “We’ll meet you back at Skyhold.”

The Inquisitor nodded and took one last look at the scene around them before he started walking away. “Let’s just get back to camp.”

He looked tired and Dorian’s eyes never left him as they traversed the dunes and rocks back to camp.  Dorian was annoyed.  No one else seemed worried about Vitya’s wellbeing.  Did they not notice the pain on Vitya’s face?  In his steps?  It took Dorian a whole two seconds before he followed the Inquisitor into the man’s tent when they arrived at camp.

“Are you alright?” Dorian asked, trying to quell his worry.

“I’m fine,” Vitya replied flatly as he removed his glove, inspecting his hand more thoroughly.

“And yet you have that look,” Dorian scoffed.

Vitya gave him an unimpressed look, exasperated. “That’s just my face.”

“Quite,” Dorian rolled his eyes and took Vitya’s hand, inspecting it with magic.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized none of Erimond’s spell remained on the man’s skin. “You’ll be fine.  Probably just sore.”

“Thanks,” Vitya deadpanned. “I didn’t know that at all.”

“Such sarcasm.”

Vitya didn’t remove his hand but gave Dorian another look.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Dorian asked quietly after a moment.

Vitya’s eyes softened and he sighed. “I’m a little unsettled, and it hurts, but I’m fine.  Really.  Thank you, though.”

Dorian nodded and reluctantly let go of the warmth of Vitya’s hand.  “I’ll get you something for the pain.”

“You don’t have to.  I’ll be fine.”

“Someone has to look out for you,” Dorian waved a hand in dismissal.

Vitya gave him an odd look that lingered longer than it probably should have before Vitya turned away.  “We’ll head back to Skyhold in the morning.  Care to join me in the war room?”

Dorian snorted. “I think I’ll pass.”

Vitya smiled softly. “At least we’ll be done with the desert for a moment.”

.     .     . 

Vitya

The Inquisitor could hear the bickering from the stairwell as he ascended them.

“You’re glib tongue does you no credit,” Mother Giselle said lowly.

“You’d be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, Your Reverence,” Dorian quipped as Vitya reached the top of the stairs, spotting Dorian and the reverend mother near the railing overlooking Solas’ rotunda.

He tried to muffle his snicker but Dorian turned at the sound.  Vitya couldn’t help but notice the soft blush that adorned the mage’s cheekbones as he joined them.

“What’s going on here?” the Inquisitor asked as he turned his attention to Mother Giselle.

“It seems the revered mother is concerned about my “undue influence” over you,” Dorian replied.

_Is she now?_

Mother Giselle looked at Dorian with displeasure before speaking.  “It _is_ just concern.  You’re Worship, you must know how this looks.”

“You might need to spell it out, my dear,” Dorian stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“This man is of Tevinter.  His presence at your side, the rumor’s alone—”

“And I’m Avvar,” Vitya interrupted, “yet you all seem to think I’m your bloody Herald of Andraste.  We have allies from all over Thedas at this point.  What’s wrong with him being from Tevinter specifically?”

Dorian hid a smile behind his hand.

“With all due respect, you underestimate the effect this man has on the people’s good opinion.”

“Right,” Vitya said irritably, “and have you told them about what he’s done to help the Inquisition?  Or are we ignoring that because he’s Tevinter?”

She replied in exasperation, “I’m fully aware that not everyone from the Imperium is the same.”

“How kind of you to notice,” Dorian commented, “Yet still you bow to the opinion of the masses?”

“The opinion of the masses is based on centuries of evidence.  What would you have me tell them?” Mother Giselle snapped.

_Oh believe me, there are many things the masses could learn by minding their own damned business._

“The truth,” Dorian offered.

“The truth is I do not know you, and neither do they.  Thus these rumors will continue.”

Vitya rubbed a hand over his forehead.  “Have you tried?  Besides trying to make him meet his father blindly?”

Dorian glanced at him as he brushed his fingers over his mustache.

“I…see,” she said after a pause.  “I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor, only to ask after this man’s intentions.  If you feel he is without ulterior motives, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.”

Vitya’s gaze followed her as she backed away with a bow.

“Well, that was something,” Dorian noted, the Chantry mother’s skirts swishing out of sight.

Vitya turned to him.  “Is this sort of thing common?”

Dorian shrugged.  “More than anyone tells you.  No one knows their own reputation.”

“Not until someone helpfully informs them,” Vitya muttered and Dorian smiled.

“There is that, yes.”

The Inquisitor shook his head in frustration.  “Don’t listen to her.  She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She does, actually,” Dorian corrected.  “There _are_ rumors, and her concern is well-meaning…if misplaced.”

“I still don’t see how it matters to you all, but I suppose you do know more than me on this stuff,” he replied and scratched the back of his neck.

The mage chuckled but his expression turned somber, almost nervous.  “It does make me wonder, _is_ my influence over you…undue?”

Vitya smirked a bit, “Perhaps but it’s the kind of undue influence I enjoy.”

“No one accused you of being politically astute.”

“Not today at least.”

Dorian laughed.  “I tease you too much, I know.”

“Oh, I probably deserve it,” Vitya shrugged and walked over to the railing, leaning against it.

“I’ll have to find something we can do that doesn’t involve teasing.  Soon, ideally,” Dorian said as he joined him.

Of course, that was when Vitya’s mind decided to barrel straight into the gutter as an image flashed in his head of Dorian laid bare on the gold and burgundy sheets of his room, writhing and begging for release.  His face felt like it was on fire and he prayed Dorian wouldn’t look over at him at that moment.

“So what were these rumors all about anyway?” he asked, trying to get his mind off the not entirely unwelcome image in his head. “Bet they’re interesting if they’ve got Chantry mothers’ knickers in a twist.”

“Ah.”  Dorian cleared his throat.  “Well, the assumption in some corners is that you and I are…intimate.  I did tell you that people would talk if they caught you leading me to your quarters.”

_Fucking hell._

“I mean, that’s not the worst assumption they could have, is it?” Vitya said as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Dorian looked at him.  “I don’t know, is it?”

Unimpressed, he replied, “Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Would you like me to answer in some other fashion?”

 _There are plenty of things I could think of actually_ , he thought as he wet his lips.  Dorian’s eyes drew to the motion.  “If you’re capable.”

Dorian’s eyes darkened a fraction as he leaned closer.  It was something Vitya had seen before in other partners and his heartbeat sped up.

“Inquisitor,” a messenger cleared his throat from behind them.  “Lady Montilyet requests your presence.”

He didn’t know whether to be grateful for the intrusion or scream.

Dorian straightened and put some distance between them, his voice a bit unsteady as he spoke, “It seems your attention is required elsewhere.”

Disappointment flitted in his stomach as he nodded.  “I’ll see you later?”

The mage gave him a small smile before he returned to the stacks of books.

Vitya let out a shaky breath as he descended the stairs.  His attraction to the mage wasn’t new to him.  He’d doubted Dorian was interested in him, well, at least until Dorian had leaned in as if to kiss him.  Vitya felt another pang of disappointment as he entered Josephine’s office.  Pity really.  He was sure it would have been a good kiss.

“Ah, Your Worship,” Josephine said where she sat at the desk.  “That was timely.”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Vitya said, pushing thoughts of Dorian down.  “What do you need?”

She held up some papers and Vitya groaned.

Josephine chuckled.  “It just needs your review.  They’re preparations for the Winter Palace: a fitting, dance lessons…It will help you mingle better.”

Vitya thought he’d rather fight great bears in the Emerald Graves than be fitted for another outfit.

“Oh, and I’d like to ask you a favor,” Josephine asked nervously.

“Can we negotiate the dance lessons?”

“No,” she said, unimpressed.

“Damn,” Vitya muttered. “What do you need?”

“It’s come to my attention that someone is killing my messengers.  A lord in Val Royeaux claims he has knowledge of who is behind this, but…”

“But?”

“He requests an audience with you.”

Vitya looked at Josephine in concern. “Are you a target?  Should we have Leliana put guards on you?”

Josephine sighed. “I honestly hope it does not come to that, but I can’t let my people go about in fear.  Will you help me?”

“You don’t even need to ask, Josie,” Vitya replied.

.     .     . 

Vitya grumbled to himself.

Assassins.

Of course it had to be fucking assassins.

They wandered the market as Varric picked up some inkwells and other things from his list.  A merchant perked up when they passed, hailing them.

“Inquisitor!  Good, good, this is exactly what I was hoping for!” the merchant exclaimed in a voice that grated at Vitya’s thinning patience.

“Oh dear,” Dorian said, tensing as they stood in front of the stall.

Vitya hadn’t meant to stop, but any movement had him alert at the moment.

“I’m not interested in what you’re selling at the moment,” Vitya said, trying to move away.

“Pity,” the merchant practically pouted. “Do forgive me, Inquisitor, but when I heard of your…association with Monsieur Pavus, I could not resist.”  At the mention of Dorian’s name, Vitya paused and the merchant smiled under his ridiculous golden mask.  “I’d intended on sending you this letter regarding my possession of Monsieur Pavus’s amulet, but it seems such a waste if you are here now.”

Dorian glared. “Let’s go.  I don’t want to be indebted to anyone, least of all you, Inquisitor.”

Vitya eyed him curiously as the merchant continued.

“It’s not coin I seek for the amulet, but influence.  Influence you possess but which the young man does not.  Provided, of course, you…desire the amulet?  For your friend?”

Vitya grit his teeth.  Of fucking course.  Everyone wanted something from him nowadays.

“Aren’t you a merchant?  Why not just sell it back?” Vitya asked, trying not to grind his teeth.

The merchant looked offended. “I am not a fence, monsieur.  I only bought your friend’s amulet because of what it is.  I do business in the Imperium.  Having a birthright, even one not your own, is most useful in…select situations.”

Dorian made a noise.  “He’s got the right of it there.”

“That’s why I gave the young man so much.  If he relinquished it, how is that my doing?”

“So you got me here?” Vitya tried not to growl. “What do you want?”

Vitya’s patience was running thin.  He had too much on his plate to worry about with keeping Josephine safe, dealing with the Wardens, and the upcoming ball with the empress of Orlais.

The merchant must have sensed his apprehension.  “I am not attempting to manipulate you, my lord.  I only wish equitable recompense.  The League de Celestine is an organization of wealthy noblemen in Orlais.  I would join, but I lack the lineage.  If someone like you applied pressure, they would admit me.  _That_ would be worth the return of the amulet.”

Vitya suppressed a sigh and turned to Dorian.  “What do you think, Dorian?”

“Leave the man be,” Dorian replied, a hard look to his face. “I got myself into this.  I should get myself out of it.”

“Perhaps you should accept your friend’s help, monsieur,” the merchant suggested with a smile that looked more like a sneer to Vitya.

He was tired of people threatening his people.

Dorian bristled. “ _Kaffas_!  I know what _you_ think, and he’s not my friend.  He’s…,” Dorian looked at Vitya and Vitya’s stomach churned, feeling like he’d been slapped, “Never mind what he is.”

“As you desire,” the merchant replied.  “Even so, that is the price.  I shall accept no other.”

“Right, can I see it?” Vitya asked coolly.  “How do we know you still have it?”

The merchant scoffed. “Of course I still have it.”

Vitya raised an eyebrow and the man squirmed under his stare.

The merchant grumbled and pulled the pendant out of his pocket and held it out, the coiled snakes flashing in the sunlight. “See for yourself then.”

Vitya’s hand reached out fast, snatching the amulet from the man’s grip.  The man sputtered as Vitya looked it over before pocketing it.

“Nice doing business with you,” Vitya said with a warning in his voice.

“You can’t just _do_ this,” he hissed. “I’ll call the guard!”

“Then do it,” Vitya stepped in close, “but know that won’t stop me from running my blade through your chest.  You fuck with my people, and you deal with me.”  Vitya took out his coin purse and tossed some coins on the ground.  “Take your payment and fuck off.”

The man growled and took a step forward but Vitya raised his hand, the Mark coming to life and the man paled, frozen in his place.  The merchant swallowed but nodded, taking a step back and collecting the coins before rushing off.

“Why did you do that?” Dorian asked, angry.

“Do you want your amulet back or not?” Vitya glared back.  “I’m tired of people trying to take advantage of me.  And _that_ ,” he practically growled, annoyed with himself, “Forget it.  Let’s go.”

“I – yes, I do. I simply…,” Dorian began as Vitya walked off.  Dorian huffed.  “I don’t want to be in your debt.  I don’t want to be in anyone’s debt.”

“You don’t think—”

“This was not your choice to make,” Dorian pointed a finger at him.

They stared each other down, neither giving in.

“Right,” Varric said into the tense silence, “Want me to stick an arrow in him?”  He jerked his thumb back where the merchant had disappeared.

“Not helping, Varric,” Vitya said as he walked around Dorian, making his way toward the exit.

He’d talk to Josephine and Leliana later about ensuring the merchant wouldn’t bother Dorian again.  He knew he could have handled that situation better, but he was in no mood to deal with influence-mongering today.


End file.
